Chapter Text
‘What is a life of a cloned child worth anyway?’
Same face, same hair, same mind, same outfit, same abilities, same everything…
Or so, the scientists having created them liked to think of their produce. The regular clones. Those without any kinds of enhancements. No mutations allowed.
All of them manufactured on the same production lines inside the cold white halls of the large size city hanging above the waters of Kamino known as Tipoca. Their most proud achievements for sure. That at least, was the sales pitch for the Jedi Council for the moment. Disposable beings created on the fast lane to be consumed by the many battles. Hundreds of thousands having been made with millions more on the way.
After all, the efforts of this newly found war against the Republic’s enemy needed the canon fodder. And the clones, well, they were expendable.
“Magnificent creatures, aren’t they.”
A comment uttered to those with plenty of the credits for show. Those able to buy the lot for their grand army. The one having been put together in a need, out of haste. Because why recruit if one could buy, right? Surely, an easy sell.
At least that had been the illusion for the Jedi having come to Kamino in a search of this, rumoured army on the making. Having found what they were looking for and the agreement having been made. Surely there was somewhat more to the story than that, but the gist of it clear.
The clones, those being made from their donor’s DNA, the one Mandalorian bounty hunter called Jango Fett being the template for them all. The first batch being ushered to the battle field with haste. Their age exhilarated, the training rushed. Nothing belonging to them, these creations. Not their lives, their future, not even their deaths. As that was their fate. Being born and bread for the one thing and one thing only. To become soldiers in someone else’s war.
Alas, despite the Kaminoan’s mutterings of how grand the clones just might have been, the reality of it all was far from the sales speech given to those willing to listen to these lies.
The clones, since their beginnings were put through such rigours no other human would be able to survive. The experiments on their being, the exhilarated ageing being one. Then, the daily routines with the harsh training, the fate of failure… it would have been tough for any being, let alone younglings with the minds of young boys. The lot growing up fast without any knowledge of what it really was being a child. There was no playtime, no toys, no nothing. The only family they had was each other.
Having only one goal implanted into their respective minds. To become the best weapon they could. For the Republic. The mantra playing there daily in whatever they did.
And so, they all went through the cycle. From the birthing tubes to being born, school and training until they reached the age of becoming a cadet, being sent out to the battle fields.
What the Kaminoans had not realised though, was the fact that their hole assembly line process had a great big flaw in it. Something they had not seen coming even if it had all been written out there on top of the assembly line. As plain as a watery day on Kamino. Alas, being the arrogant scientist the lot of them were, well, most of them anyway they had failed to counter the one thing into their infallible equations. The concoction they were making to create these, magnificent creatures. The clones.
Something hidden deep within the human mind. Something not seen by any equipment. Being nothing measurable nor visible on any kind of scanner. The one human thrive they could not have foreseen surfacing.
Individuality.
As no matter the conditioning, training or tinkering of the DNA could stop it from reaching daylight from the darkest hidden corners of those brave young minds the Kaminoans had so hard been trying to mould into the very one shape they had planned on their drawing boards while designing the most perfect soldier.
Not that the clones created from Jango Fett’s DNA weren’t the perfect soldiers. Oh, they were just that. But, they were so much more. That becoming obvious soon after the first ones off the line had started growing up. Their behaviours, their mannerisms, even their outlooks starting to take shape each passing day despite they rigours of their upbringing.
Two of those creations especially, designated as CT-2224 and his soon to be best friend, CT-1010.
The two having been together since having been released from their tubes. Not quite batch mates but friends for sure. Having found each other in the midst of all the organised chaos with was the clonehood. All the familiar faces around them, some older than others but not by much, as their exhilarated growth caused them to double up their human years in no time.
The two were hell raises according to their teachers. The two running into more trouble than their keepers would admit. The conditioning clearly not applying to these two. Then again, they were hardly the only ones. The more timid ones copying the two for sure. As soon as the duo had gotten out and managed to toddle around on their own, there had been no keeping these two in place.
And that is how it had all started for these two young clones. The road form childhood, to adulthood, becoming friends along the way.